


Tick Tock

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: As The Pendulum Swings, And The Grandfather Chimes [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: And anxiety, Awful clock metaphor, Be nice please, I have Asperger's Syndrome, I love Grandfather clocks, I need to stop tagging, IDEK in all honesty, Vocal stimming mentioned?, and mild depression, but not as much as Jaguars, dermatophagia mentioned, only found out that I 'stim' recently, or whatever it is - Freeform, sorry it's addictive, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: When you were younger, maybe five or so, you used to bark out the window like a dog.It wasn't until quite awhile after the manager accused your Grandma of hiding a dog that you stopped.----------///////---------I write a ventish piece thingy. Second Person POV cause I dunno I was in a weird mood and now it's falling into a depressive state today so I thought I'd post it while I'm sort of dead inside, you know?





	Tick Tock

**Author's Note:**

> So yes I have diagnosed Asperger's syndrome as well as high anxiety and mild depression. This is mostly just a vent piece; everything in it is true but as I only went to therapy for a year after my diagnoses (trying to get back in currently) I don't know what applies to what. 
> 
> So like I said just a vent fic (with hell of a lot of stuff left out.)
> 
> Also I hesitated sharing this so please don't make me regret it.

When you were younger, maybe five or so, you used to bark out the window like a dog.

It wasn't until quite awhile after the manager accused your Grandma of hiding a dog that you stopped.

And you didn't do it because you were being silly or you wanted to be a dog. You missed Buddy who was given to some neighbors when you and your mom moved. And besides, you like the throaty feel of it and the sound of the _clap_ at the end of the bark.

Growing up you made noises when you ate. You didn't notice until your Aunt pointed it out (not meanly) and you didn't believe but after that you trained yourself not to.

Because you were six or eight or maybe ten, and by then you knew ‘ _embarrassment_ ’ because the concept had been (non-literally) beat into you over the years.

So when even as a teenager, an _adult_ , you have to fight back the urge to meow or purr or bark or growl or hiss or _caw_ -

It's still hard because anything you do that you enjoy that's considered ‘ _weird_ ’ or ‘ _abnormal_ ’ you have the strongest urge to do, and you know you'll feel _satisfied_ from it; but anxiety has arisen stronger than before so that you _can't_ do certain things even though you _want_ to-

( _There were other, more physical things you've had to censor over the years, not out of choice but obligation to obedience or the tight-knit rules of society. Some, things, that you've let yourself do once more because the anxiety and fear will drown you if you don’t._ )

And it's hard when you stay up late because before you couldn't sleep; the thoughts in your head never-ceasing, some abysmal and pointless but others churning your stomach with worry worry _worry_. So you start staying up; distracting yourself. It's easier and more tolerable than the thoughts and you'd rather exhaust yourself so you can fall right asleep than try sleeping early and failing for two hours because your brain can't shut off.

But you're trying - _trying_ \- because you know it'll help your day better if you sleep better but habit - no, _routine_ \- routine is hard to change but it dictates your life and normally you don't mind. Rather, you revel in it.

( _Hour, hour, half hour; these are increments, blocks you like to use to divide your day and your plans. Appointments are usually blocks of these, and you only need a half hour to wake up, to get ready. You only need a half hour to get ready for bed. You just need to get back in a routine of using the evening alarms_.)

And when those routines are broken, or slashed, or even worse, _altered_ , you don't freak out. You try not to shut-down either. Instead you go along with it, try to be nice. Don't talk as much as you normally do or you can and instead smile and nod, tear at the skin around your fingers some more. Only a little, clips and strips at a time - not that it matters since you always eventually rip a little too deep and you taste the tang of iron, and your fingers are raw but later they'll dry up and callous and you'll go at it again for completely different reasons.

( _There's always a reason. Whether to focus or because sensory, or your nervous angry scared -_ )

. . . you're trying to stop.

But it's still another mark against you that you normally wouldn't care about, but it's those you thought who wouldn't care have made you people-conscious and hesitant about your every action.

Although you didn't used to get metaphors or sayings, you're an avid reader and you get those sort of things now.

(Even if your thinking is still literal in other areas.)  
  
So you guess you'll try one out:

And if you were on a clock, with the circle of the face the Earth and the hands the Sun and Moon, the numbers are the people - the different numbers are girls and boys, different skin colors, heights, etc. - but they're all numbers because they're all _people_ who understand one another, but _you're_ -

You'd be the pendulum on a Grandfather clock, swinging back and forth, back and forth.

Because a clock is still a clock without a pendulum or thinking about the body, the big open universe, but it'd be nowhere as grandiose as a large Cherry-wood Grandfather clock.

And things like that are what keep you grounded.


End file.
